


Deep Focus

by DRHPaints



Series: Yes, Sir! Professor Hader <3 [1]
Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF, Bill Hader - Fandom, Bill Hader RPF, US Comedians RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Beardy!Bill Hader, Cunnilingus, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Glasses!Bill Hader, POV Third Person, Professor!Bill Hader, Smut, Teacher!Bill Hader, Teacher-Student Relationship, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, film studies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25839217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DRHPaints/pseuds/DRHPaints
Summary: Professor Bill Hader is in his third year teaching Film Studies at Hollingsworth University when one of his students, Charlotte Carlson, requests his help with her assistantship application.
Relationships: Bill Hader/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Yes, Sir! Professor Hader <3 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908889
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Deep Focus

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not sure yet if this is a one shot, or if it’s something I’ll add to later. If I do, I’ll add tags as I go along.
> 
> For those who are curious, the title ‘Deep Focus’ is a film term that refers to when objects very near the camera as well as those far away are in focus at the same time.

Scratching his beard, Bill turned to face his students, pausing the video and gesturing to the screen. He was showing them the infamous phone call scene from _Taxi Driver_ , a lesson that always got him excited.

“Alright, see here? How the camera starts to drift off, panning away from De Niro?” Pressing play, they watched as De Niro’s character could still be heard speaking into the phone, but was no longer in the shot. “Now, I saw this movie for the first time when I was around ten years old.” Bill heard a couple of sharp intakes of breath and one student even gasped ‘ _Yikes!._ ’ Chuckling, Bill nodded. “Yes, I’m sure that explains a few things about your professor.” The class tittered in amusement. “But this was the first time I realized that, as a director, you don’t need to follow the rules.” He walked in front of the classroom, spreading his hands wide. “There’s nothing saying you have to keep the eye of the camera on your main character. Scorsese realized that the interaction between these two characters,” Bill pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the screen. “Was so deeply awkward, so uncomfortable, that even the viewer wouldn’t want to be a part of it. So he allows you some small escape.” Glancing back at the screen, Bill shook his head in awe. “Brilliant.” He murmured, half to himself.

A delicate hand hung in the air, not for the first time that day. “Yes, Ms. Carlson?” Bill grinned, leaning back on his desk with both hands and crossing his ankles. 

“So Professor, do you think”, Charlotte began, pushing back an errant strand of crimson hair. “That it was Scorsese’s intention to inform the audience that we, the viewer, also hold a somewhat active role in the narrative of the story? That how we choose to perceive the content and relate to the characters may change how the work itself is regarded throughout history?”

Tilting his head, Bill folded his beige-jacket clad arms and grinned. “That’s...that’s an incredibly astute observation, Ms. Carlson.” He pushed his thick-rimmed black glasses up his nose. “I can’t say whether or not that was his intention, at least not consciously, but I’d like to hope that’s something all directors, in fact all creatives for that matter, take into account when making their work. Nothing is made in a vacuum, folks.” Bill broadened his attention to include the entire class. “Whether you end up directing, screenwriting, acting, what have you; as Ms. Carlson said,” Bill inclined his head in her direction and saw Charlotte smile sheepishly. “How people interact with your work is vital. Nothing stands on its own merit.” 

Glancing at the clock, Bill saw it was almost ten to the hour. “Okay, everybody. I’ll see you on Wednesday.” Desks scraped and Bill had to raise his voice to be heard over the rustling of milling bodies. “We’ll be taking a look at Robert Altman’s _The Player._ Have a good night.”

Bill sat behind his desk and pulled out his calendar. The staff meeting started in about two hours, and this was his last class of the day, enough time to grab some dinner. Bill was in his third year teaching at Hollingsworth. After trying to make it in LA for a while, squeezing out a few short films he hoped his students would never find, and getting nowhere, he decided to hang up his director’s hat and applied for a teaching position. Bill figured his extensive knowledge of film, plus his New York Film Academy degree, would make the job effortless. 

That was, until, his first day, when the door of the classroom swung shut behind him and he turned around to see fifty or more pairs of eyes staring at him. Waiting. Just waiting for him to say something, direct their minds, impart knowledge. Immediately struck with a migraine, Bill had been half-blind through the entirety of that first class, and casting his thoughts back, he wasn’t even certain the lecture made sense. But over time, things gradually became easier. Still getting nervous, Bill found ways to deal with it. Breathing exercises, purposely making little mistakes to trick his brain into thinking, ‘Okay, you messed up, and look, nothing terrible happened,’ and sometimes just saying the words out loud to himself: ‘I am so nervous.’

Regardless of his internal conflicts, Bill’s reviews from students were stellar. Sure, he got the occasional comment that his taste in film was pretentious (he honestly couldn’t blame them for that one) but generally they were positive. Students found him engaging, challenging, and funny. When going through last year’s reviews though, Bill came across someone who had written in the ‘Additional Comments’ section in tidy script: ‘ _Hottest prof on campus. 10/10 would bang._ ’ Shifting his eyes nervously, Bill set that one aside and continued. But then another cropped up, this time the student called him ‘sexy’ and had gone so far as to write a phone number, but left no name. Red-faced, Bill crumpled the two tawdry reviews and tossed them in the trash, figuring there was no need for the Dean to see such things.

Now that he was settling in at Hollingsworth, Bill found he truly enjoyed his new role. Crafting lesson plans, discovering new directors and films, that spark in a student’s eye when something slid into place for the first time; even though it wasn’t his first dream, Bill stumbled upon a calling.

“Excuse me, Professor?” Looking up, Bill saw Charlotte standing in front of his desk, overstuffed bag slung across her chest. “Do you have a minute?”

“Of course.” Setting down his pen, Bill leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his little belly that never seemed to disappear, no matter what he did. “What’s up?”

“Well, I was curious,” She tilted her head and Bill noticed how her hair cascaded in a gentle auburn wave unbidden down one shoulder. “A lot of people criticize Scorsese’s later work, saying things like once he got ahold of a bigger budget, he lost a lot of the grit and darkness that made his earlier films great. What’s your opinion on that?” Hefting the bag higher on her shoulder, Charlotte’s green eyes looked at him in a way that made Bill feel he was being examined, studied.

Pulling a face, Bill shook his head. “I guess I would refer those people to _The Departed_ for one, Ms. Carlson. I mean, if someone can sit through that film and think Scorsese isn’t still cranking out grit and darkness, then they aren’t paying attention.”

Charlotte chuckled and nodded. “Very true, sir. Thank you.”

“No problem.” Bill smiled and looked back down at his calendar, but after a moment he noticed Charlotte was still standing in front of his desk, shifting her weight from side to side. “Was there something else, Ms. Carlson?” He raised a prominent dark eyebrow.

Rubbing a hand against the back of her neck, Charlotte frowned. “Well, it’s just…it’s the assistantship, sir.” 

“Ah,” Bill nodded knowingly. The Film Studies department was smaller than most on campus, and as a result, they only gave out one assistantship per semester. It covered half of that student’s tuition, and the competition was fierce.

“I’m sorry, sir. Maybe it’s inappropriate for me to be asking you about it…” She bit her lower lip, which was painted a deep, blood red.

Shaking his head, Bill held out his hands. “Not at all, happy to help. Between you and me, Ms. Carlson,” Bill crooked his finger and Charlotte leaned in conspiratorially. “I think you’re the best candidate for the job.”

Charlotte beamed, bringing a hand to her cheek. “Really, sir? You mean that?”

“I do.” Bill nodded. And he actually did. At a handful of years older than the majority of her fellow students, Charlotte was serious about her studies in a way many of them weren’t. In addition to that, she had a unique eye for film that he rarely came across. Her perspective was exacting without being hypercritical. Charlotte was able to pick something apart, yet still enjoy it as a whole. It was a rare quality and not something Bill took for granted.

“Well, sir, as you know my focus is screenwriting. So that means I have to write a script for the application.” Bill nodded. In addition to the application itself, all students had to do an in-person interview and complete a portion of a short film in tandem with other applicants. “Maybe it’s inappropriate to ask, and of course you can say no, but…” Charlotte chewed on her lip for a moment. “Would you be willing to...you know, read mine? Maybe? And let me know what you think?” She flinched away from him like someone was raising a fist in her direction.

Tilting his head, Bill’s light pink lips spread into a broad smile. “Of course I would, Ms. Carlson. I’d be honored.”

“Oh really?” Charlotte sighed. “Thank you, sir! That would mean so much to me.” Rifling in her bag, she withdrew a script and handed it to him. “I really value your opinion.”

“Thank you, Ms. Carlson. I’ll get to it as soon as I can.”

“Oh, no rush.” Charlotte waved her hands in front of her. “Take all the time you need, sir.” Smiling, she thanked him again and they said goodbye. Finding his eyes trailing after her as she left, he noticed the swish of her purple skirt highlighted her ivory thighs, and Bill shook his head to free himself of the image. Drawing his attention to Charlotte’s script, he saw the title _Inpatient_ by Charlotte Carlson and tilted his head curiously. Tucking it into his briefcase, Bill left to grab some dinner before his staff meeting.

Deciding on a local dive Bill enjoyed in particular because no one else seemed to like it there, he took a booth in the back, ordering a burger from the exhausted waitress, before cracking open his briefcase and extracting Charlotte’s script.

It was the story of a man named Mort in long-term inpatient psychiatric care with paranoid schizophrenia. Mort encounters a new patient, Dan, who apparently had multiple personality disorder (Dissociative Identity Disorder these days, but her script was set in the late 60s, when massive mental institutions were still around and kicking) but as Mort observes Dan through the mandatory groups and various interactions, Mort notices the other patients on the unit gradually, one by one, becoming catatonic. Therefore Mort suspects that Dan can, in fact, absorb the personalities of others, but the viewer (or in Bill’s case, reader) was left wondering if Dan truly had this ability, or if it was a product of Mort’s intense paranoia.

Sitting back, Bill set down the script and looked around. He didn’t notice his food arrived at some point and was sitting at his elbow, cold. Trailing his fingers over the top page, Bill smirked. He’d probably seen thousands of films at this point, and it was a rare occurrence that a story could surprise him, but somehow Charlotte managed to do so. Dark, heartbreaking, and poignant, it spoke to the human condition without being preachy and best of all, it was original. Sliding it back into his briefcase tenderly, Bill finally bit into his burger, mind aswirl.

***

“Notice the conversation with Reynolds in the foreground,” Bill directed the class’s attention to the screen, which projected a scene in a cafe from Robert Altman’s _The Player_. “The camera forces the viewer to simultaneously witness the conversation with Reynolds in the foreground, while almost coaxing you,” Bill pulled at an imaginary something from his chest. “Toward the background conversation containing our main character played by Tim Robbins. We even have to attempt to discern between the audio of the two for a moment as the camera pushes in.” Pressing play, Bill let the movie roll until it was focused solely on Tim Robbins’ character. 

“So again,” Bill paced to the front of the classroom, adjusting his glasses. “Don’t be afraid to break the rules. You’re making art, not an instruction manual.” Smiling, Bill looked at the clock and clapped his hands. “Okay, thanks everybody. See you Friday.”

Seeing Charlotte making her way to the door, Bill held out a hand. “Ms Carlson, a moment?”

Grinning, she strolled up to his desk. “Hey Professor, what’s up?”

“I wanted to discuss your script.” Bill said as the last of the students trickled out.

“Oh jeez,” Charlotte cringed, covering her face. “Okay, hit me with it. What did you think?”

Placing his hands on her shoulders, Bill forced Charlotte to meet his cobalt blue eyes. “Ms. Carlson, it was _spectacular_. Seriously. Perhaps the best piece of student work I’ve ever read.”

“Oh, really, sir?” Charlotte’s hands came up to grasp his forearms and she beamed earnestly. Bill stared at where her delicate fingers gripped his bare skin for a moment before clearing his throat and casually lowering his arms. _Probably shouldn’t have touched her…_

“Yes. Well-written, haunting, and deeply sad; but I think thought provoking enough that an audience wouldn’t leave feeling manipulated into pity.”

Charlotte pressed a hand to her chest. “Wow, sir, that’s...thank you.” Her fingers lifted in Bill’s direction slightly before dropping, as if she meant to touch him again but thought better of it. “Do you have any notes? Anything you’d suggest I’d change or work on?” 

Stroking his beard, Bill gathered his eyebrows and frowned. “You know, the only thing you might want to take a look at are the interactions between Mort and the psychiatrist. I think they might come across a little...melodramatic.”

Charlotte nodded, looking off into space. “Hmm, yeah. I can see that. What would you suggest?”

Bill shook his head. “Nope. One thing I’ve learned.” He held up a finger. “And it was some of the best writing advice I ever got. When someone tells you what’s wrong with your work, they’re usually right. But when someone tells you how to fix it...they’re usually wrong.” They both chuckled. “So you’ll have to figure out how to get there on your own.”

Grinning, Charlotte nodded. “That’s really smart. Thank you, sir.”

“Anytime.” Her emerald eyes lingered over his face and Bill found he had to look away.

“Well, thanks again, sir.” Hunching her bag up her shoulder, Charlotte gave him a little wave and they said goodbye before she left. 

Returning to his desk, Bill sat down, poised with the pen in the air over his paper, thinking for a moment, before sighing and beginning next week’s lesson plan.

***

About a month later, the assistantship student film groups had been assigned and work was underway. Bill hadn’t had a chance to talk to Charlotte about how things were going. She frequently participated in class of course, which he could tell annoyed some of the other students, but as her contributions were well thought out and genuine, Bill appreciated it. 

When class came to a close, he caught her attention. “Ms. Carlson? Do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” Charlotte smiled at him, tossing her scarlet hair over one shoulder. “What’s up?”

Leaning back against his desk, Bill crossed his arms. “Oh, I was just wondering how your film is coming along so far.”

“Well, to be honest, sir…” Charlotte looked off to the side and held up a teetering hand. “It could be better.”

Bill tilted his head. “Oh yeah? What’s going on?”

“Well, the director they assigned me, it’s...it’s Saunders.” She frowned.

Bill nodded all-too-knowingly. He liked to give every student a fair shot, but Mitch Saunders was...difficult. Entitled and argumentative, he often took the floor in class whenever it came to what Mitch called ‘artistic expression,’ meaning he thought as a director, he should be allowed to be as offensive as he wanted to be in the name of ‘enlightening the masses,’ claiming the current generation was ‘too sheltered’ even though he was one of them. 

“Ah, I see,” Bill said. “I can imagine that’s challenging.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “I don’t know where to start. You should see the women he wanted to cast as the hospital nurses. And the _costumes_ he picked out.” She stuck out her tongue in disgust. “And he keeps saying he wants to shoot the whole thing hand-held to give it an ‘edge’.” Charlotte did sarcastic quotation marks.

Shaking his head, Bill frowned. “That’s a shame. He could really butcher your beautiful script.” Charlotte caught his eye and gave him a half smile. “I hope you’re standing up to him.”

“I’m trying but…” She chewed on her lip, looking at the floor.

Bill leaned in a little. “But what?”

Charlotte shrugged. “He just makes me really uncomfortable.”

“What do you mean?” Bill ticked his glasses up his face.

“Well, he…” Charlotte rubbed the elbow of one arm with her other hand, staring at the floor and shifting her weight from side to side. “He keeps touching me…” Her voice was small.

Bill’s jaw clenched and he narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Not...not like anything serious. Just like…” Charlotte cleared her throat. “Like putting his arm around me all the time, or picking stuff off my clothes that isn’t there, or pushing my hair out of my face.”

As she continued to list things, Bill noticed his nails digging into his arm, face growing hot as his teeth ground together. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to calm himself, failing. “Have you told anyone about this?” He asked, voice deeper than he intended.

Charlotte shook her head. “Just you.” Her eyes met his for a moment. She appeared woeful before her gaze returned to her feet.

“I think it would be a good idea to tell the assistantship committee, I mean if he’s making you uncomfortable, he should—“

“Sir, no, please,” Charlotte reached out and grabbed his arm, her expression desperate. “I mean,” she swallowed hard. “He hasn’t done anything serious and...and you know who his father is.”

Staring back at her fearful face, Bill nodded sadly. They were standing in Saunders Hall, after all. Any complaint made about Mitch, especially something without hard proof, could realistically prove detrimental to Charlotte’s chances of acquiring the assistantship.

“I understand, Ms. Carlson, but please,” Swallowing, Bill decided to risk it and lightly placed his hand on top of Charlotte’s where it rested on his arm. “If things get any worse, or if you decide you can’t tolerate it anymore as it is, come and let me know.”

Turning her hand over, Charlotte’s fingers touched him, rubbing little circles with her thumb. “Thank you, sir.” It was barely above a whisper. She still wasn’t looking at him, but Bill’s heart thundered as Charlotte stood before him, head tipped low, the small point of contact with her electric. 

Dropping his hand, Charlotte’s gaze met his. “Well...thanks for listening, Professor. I-I’ll see you on Friday.” Bill nodded and they said a hasty goodbye, Charlotte slipping out the door before he could register what happened.

***

_Fistfuls of crimson hair. Viridescent eyes sparkling coyly. Voluptuous blood red lips. A mouth, warm, wet, and wanting. Thrusting, sheathed within a hungry throat moaning around tender flesh. Close. So close…_

Snorting himself awake, Bill peered blearily around his apartment, dazed. He’d been dreaming about… _Oh…_ Noticing the raging erection, a thin layer of shame coated Bill’s stomach. He glanced at the clock. 7:43. Still plenty of time before he had to start getting ready for his first class. Picking up his phone from the bedside table, Bill brought up one of his favorite videos, laying back and sliding his hand underneath his boxers.

But for some reason, as Bill stroked his almost painful erection, it wasn’t doing it for him this time. Looking around the room nervously as if someone might see, Bill tapped the search bar, chewing his lower lip and typing in ‘Redhead Blowjob.’ Scrolling until he found a reasonable facsimile, Bill spent half the time watching, half with his eyes closed, trying to bring back the sensations of the dream, to imagine what it would be like to have Charlotte’s mouth working him into oblivion. Cuming hard with Charlotte’s name ghosting over his lips, Bill cleaned himself up, and now that he was free of the grip of his lust he vowed he would never think of her, or any student, that way again. _After all, what would Charlotte think if she knew?_

***

Walking across campus one day, Bill adjusted his shoulder bag across his faded t-shirt and grinned as he saw yet another student hauling video equipment pass by. The film students often couldn’t get permission, or couldn’t afford to shoot anywhere other than on campus, so they made due, managing to turn almost anything into a decent backdrop for their vision. 

Crossing the courtyard, Bill spotted Charlotte’s red hair glinting in the sunlight. Unable to hear her from this distance, he could still tell she was upset, arms raised in the air and apparently shouting at Saunders, who, from the look of him, was unfazed.

Casually sidling up, Bill began to glean a bit of the situation.

“What’re you some kind of _idiot_?” Charlotte shouted. “You really want me to do a rewrite and put in a _sex scene_?”

Mitch shrugged, face smug. “I just think it’ll make things pop.”

Charlotte grabbed her own hair, nearly tearing it from her scalp. “But can’t you see that doesn’t make any sense?! Who would even be having sex in this anyway?” She slapped her hand on the script.

“The nurses.” Mitch smirked. 

Charlotte dragged her fingers down her face in exasperation. “I can’t. I fucking can’t. _Fuck this._ ” Storming off, head down, Charlotte practically collided with Bill, stopping just short of his feet in a huff.

“Hello, sir.” She bit out the words, crossing her arms. Hair a mess, face flushed pink, her toe tapping in aggravation; Bill didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, but he found her rage adorable.

“Okay, Ms. Carlson,” Bill nodded, gesturing for her to follow. “Come with me.” 

Charlotte stomped after him and Bill had to swallow a giggle as he led her to the cafeteria. Proceeding slowly through the line, Bill could almost hear her teeth grinding as he selected a chocolate mousse with whipped cream before turning to her. 

“You like chocolate?” Bill raised a dark eyebrow. Expression softening a little, Charlotte nodded. Sliding a second one onto the tray, Bill also picked up two packets of tea. When they got to the register Charlotte scrambled in her bag for her meal card, but Bill waved it away and she smiled.

Sitting down, Bill passed her the dessert and Charlotte took a large spoonful.

“ _Mmm…_ ” releasing a long, low hum, eyes closed and tongue rolling, Bill felt all the hair on his neck stand up as he watched her, his own spoon hovering in midair. “Thank you, sir. I needed that.” Opening her eyes, Charlotte leaned forward, elbows on the table to dig up another bite and Bill tore his eyes away from the hint of cleavage peeking out of her blue top.

“So,” Bill tried to focus on his dessert and only his dessert. “I take it things aren’t going well with your film?” 

Charlotte rubbed her forehead. “I mean...I don’t know what to do anymore. There’s no compromising with someone like that. And I just know that if I let him have his way it’s going to be a shit show.” She shook her head. “It makes me so goddamn angry because if it wasn’t for this moron, maybe I really could’ve had a shot…” Stabbing her dessert, Bill saw Charlotte’s lower lip start to quiver.

“Ms. Carlson…” he said softly. “It’s not over, yet. You don’t know. Things could still work out for the best.”

A couple of tears trickled down her face and Charlotte wiped them away quickly. “I’m sorry. You were just trying to be nice and cheer me up and here I am crying.” She gave him a watery smile. Bill wanted to hold her, to draw her near and tell her everything would be all right. Hell, he would’ve settled for touching her damn hand, but Bill knew he couldn’t, not there, so he listened. “It’s just...if I don’t get this assistantship, I probably won’t be able to come and finish up next year.” Charlotte stirred her mousse.

“Oh,” Bil sat back in his chair. “I...I didn’t realize that.” He’d been rooting for Charlotte to get the assistantship because Bill believed she deserved it, of course, but now the idea of her being denied... It would mean not seeing her raising a persistent hand in his class, not finding himself surprised almost every day by her well-crafted questions, not spotting her smiling face looking back at him whenever their paths crossed. It made Bill feel hollow in a way he couldn’t describe.

Nodding sadly, Charlotte finished and stood up. “Well, thanks for listening, sir. And for this,” she held up her empty dish and spoon. “I really appreciate it. Guess I’ll go back and try to make nice.” Charlotte rolled her eyes.

“Good luck, Ms. Carlson.” Bill forced a grin and she thanked him, walking away. Looking down at the remaining chocolate before him, Bill found he was no longer hungry.

***

Yawning, Bill scratched his beard, taking off his glasses for a moment and pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d been correcting tests from his Intro to Film Theory class for the better part of two hours, kicking himself for assigning an essay portion, especially since he could barely make out some of the student’s untidy scrawl. Turning the page on the last test, Bill glanced at the clock. Almost 10:00 p.m. Stacking the tests in a drawer, Bill locked his office and walked down to his car.

Stepping out into the night air, Bill heard a panicked voice floating to him across the parking lot.

“ _Stop it!”_

“Come on…”

“ _I said get off of me!”_

Searching for the source of the noise, Bill spotted two people far away, one pushing the other up against a car, who seemed to be struggling underneath them. Dropping his briefcase, Bill broke into a run. Approaching the car, he saw it was Mitch Saunders, hands roaming over Charlotte’s body recklessly as she tried to fight him off. 

Snatching Mitch by the hair at the crown of his head, Bill tore him backward, and he would’ve tossed him to the ground if his other hand hadn’t clamped around his throat, slamming Mitch against the car.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” Bill growled through gritted teeth, face contorted with rage as he contracted his large hand over Mitch’s windpipe, preventing him from answering. Mitch clawed at his arm, but Bill, nose flaring, eyes wide, didn’t let up.

“Sir!” Charlotte pulled at one of his broad shoulders, but Bill’s blue eyes were stormy and he didn’t take his gaze away from Mitch as his face started to turn purple under his grasp.

” _Professor Hader! Stop!_ ” Tugging hard at his arm, Bill blinked and turned to face Charlotte, releasing his grip on Mitch, who tumbled to the ground, gasping for air and rubbing his throat. 

Chest heaving, Bill’s legs felt like liquid as he looked at Charlotte, who was trembling.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

She nodded, hugging herself. “Y-yeah. Yeah. Thank you.”

Kneeling on the ground, Mitch managed to choke out something that sounded like, “When my father…” and Bill had to seriously fight the urge to kick him in the gut. Walking Charlotte a couple of steps away, he called the police, and campus security, waiting with her until they arrived.

Giving his statement, Bill suddenly felt bone tired as the adrenaline drained from him, but he waited until they finished asking Charlotte all of their questions and Mitch was safely hauled away. 

“So you’re sure you’re alright?” Bill swallowed a yawn, leaning against his car.

“Yeah, thank you, sir.” Charlotte looked at her feet for a moment. “I mean, if you hadn’t been there…”

Bill shook his head. “Let’s not think about that.” Even the idea made him nauseous. “Do you need a ride home or anything?”

“No, I have my car here.” Charlotte gestured over her shoulder.

“Well, alright then.” Bill smiled wearily. “Go home and get some rest.”

“You too, sir.” Charlotte started to turn away and Bill took out his keys, but she doubled back, biting her lip, Charlotte slowly approached him, fidgeting. Getting close, Charlotte raised her arms, wrapping them around Bill’s neck. Burying her face in the crook of his neck.

“ _Thank you, sir_.” She whispered against his skin. Caught off guard, Charlotte hung on him with his arms spread for a moment before he tightened them around her, inhaling the sweet citrus scent of her hair as he tucked his face into her, holding her near. They clung to one another for a while before Charlotte unraveled, trying to hide her face as she wiped her cheeks and walked quickly to her car.

***

Adjusting himself in the seat, Bill was surprised at how anxious he felt. It was the Student Film Showcase. He looked forward to it every year, the final products of all his student’s hard work come to light. And though he would never admit it, Bill was especially curious about how Charlotte’s had turned out. After the attack, Mitch had been expelled, despite his connections, and as a result Charlotte and the editor of her team, Rory, had to share directorial duties, even though it wasn’t their forte.

Glancing over the program, Bill saw that her film was second to last. The lights lowered and he settled in. Overall, he was impressed. Most students managed to craft a quality narrative, and even the spots that were shaky were understandable, usually the result of weak acting on behalf of their student volunteers or a learning curve with the equipment.

The title card for Charlotte’s film flashed and Bill noticed his finger’s fiddling and his foot jiggling, but was powerless to stop it. As it turned out, his body was panicked over nothing. The mood Charlotte had managed to capture with her restricted resources, spinning her story and developing her characters within the limited time frame, was impressive. When the credits rolled the audience broke out in resounding applause, Bill clapping harder than anyone. 

Last film ending, the audience gave a standing ovation before people drifted to the hall for refreshments. Everyone usually dressed up a little, so Bill had put on a blue button up under his black blazer with matching slacks, smoothing the lapel and feeling uncomfortable as he usually did in formal clothing. He was getting a cup of punch when he heard a voice pipe up at his shoulder.

“Hello, sir.”

“Oh, hello Ms. Carlson,” Bill turned, and he tried not to stare. Charlotte always looked nice, but for the evening she wore a deep purple dress that hugged her curvaceous body, hair half up in loose waves. 

“So,” Charlotte tilted her head. “What did you think?”

Bill nodded. “Stunning.” Eyes trailing down, he forced his gaze back up to her face. _Remember, you’re talking about her film, not her body…_ “Really excellent work.”

“You think so, sir?” The way she was looking up at him through those long eyelashes made Bill’s collar feel tight.

“Definitely.” He rubbed the condensation on his cup, studying their feet. “I am really proud of you.”

Charlotte’s cheeks flushed. “Wow. Thank you, sir. That...that means a lot to me.” 

Bill’s oceanic eyes met hers, and there were so many things he wanted to say, but even if he’d been able to craft the words, he couldn’t. Just then Dean Marshall interrupted his train of thought, clapping Bill on the shoulder and scooping him away. Bill saw Charlotte celebrating with Rory and some of the other students throughout the night, but their paths didn’t cross again, and as he went home that night he found himself reflecting on Charlotte’s film as well as the look in her green eyes.

***

Preparing next week’s unit on David Lynch, Bill was hunched over in his chair when he heard a frantic knocking on his office door that startled him. Looking up he saw Charlotte jumping up and down in front of his window, waving a piece of paper, face full of manic glee. Raising an eyebrow and grinning, he walked to the door, unlocking it.

“I got it! _I got it!_ ” Charlotte held the letter up to his face, but was still bouncing so Bill wasn’t able to read it. Though of course he knew what she meant.

“I _knew_ it” Bill beamed and Charlotte leaped into his arms, squealing with joy. Spinning her around, Charlotte wrapped her legs around his waist as they laughed. 

Slowing, Charlotte looked down at him, her face incredibly close. “You really thought I was going to get it?”

“Never a doubt in my mind.” Bill grinned.

Charlotte’s fingers pushed back his hair, the other hand cupping his bristly cheek as she joined their mouths together. Bill’s eyes fell closed, exhaling slowly as he rejoiced in the softness of her lips.

Parting, Charlotte traced a thumb over his prominent cheekbone. “I...I hope that was okay, sir.”

“Bill,” he smiled. “Call me Bill.”

Lifting her eyebrows, Charlotte smirked. “ _Bill._ ” Leaning in to catch his mouth again, but Bill stopped her.

“Wait,” Charlotte looked confused, but he set her down, walking to the door, pulling down the shade and locking it before turning around and taking her face in both of his large hands. Backing up, Charlotte sat on the desk as their mouths fused together, Bill’s tongue sneaking against hers as their heads tilted to deepen the kiss. Locking her legs around his waist, Charlotte drew Bill close, and his sizable hands traveled under her shirt, massaging her through her bra before she reached back to unhook it. Bill hummed appreciatively, laying her down on the desk and resting on top of her. One hand began to slide up her creamy thigh, working under her skirt to knead her ass as Charlotte’s hand snaked between them and began to undo his jeans. 

Fingers creeping into his boxers, Charlotte grasped Bill’s thick cock and he let out an inadvertent little moan. Sliding his fingers in between her thighs, Bill smiled against Charlotte’s lips when he discovered how wet she was, swirling around her clit. Breaking away from her mouth, Bill kissed her neck, whiskers grazing her, nipping at her earlobe before lifting her shirt and taking a nipple between his lips, caressing her breasts and working his way down her abdomen. Kneeling, Bill brushed his lips over the inside of her thighs before peeling off her panties and pressing whiskery kisses to her slit, parting her with two fingers and beginning to circle her clit with his long tongue. Teasing her with the tip, Charlotte rolled her hips, aching for friction and Bill assented, diving forward and clamping his soft pink lips around her swollen clit, beginning to suck lightly.

“ _Oh Bill, oh fuck!_ ” Charlotte gasped, fingers digging into his dark brown locks as she began grinding against his sturdy jaw. Holding her firm with one hand, Bill used two fingers of the other to pulse deep inside of her, hand growing slick with her desire as Charlotte smothered her mounting moans with the fabric of her shirt. Quivering around his fingers, her heels jittered against his back as she came, pulling hard at his short hair and dripping down his beard.

Rising, Bill wiped his face on his sleeve before bending over to tease Charlotte’s hair away from her face. Petting his beard, she looked up at him, eyes drunk with lust.

“ _I need you inside of me_ ,” she whispered. Catching her mouth, Bill worked his jeans and boxers down his hips a little, and cock in hand, he rubbed himself over her slick entrance before looking to Charlotte for confirmation. She gave him a little nod and he surged forth, Charlotte’s mouth dropping open silently as Bill filled her. A guttural groan rolled up from his chest as the pressure encapsulated him, and he held still inside of her for a moment before beginning to rock into her. It wasn’t long before they developed a rolling rhythm, Bill’s finger’s twirling between her thighs as their mouths fought to stay together in between panted breaths.

“ _Fuck, Bill, yes!”_ Charlotte cried, flinging her head back against the desk as she twitched around his cock, trembling helplessly, hands gripping tight to his broad shoulders.

Bill’s moans turned to whimpers, smothering his face against her neck to muffle the sound as he pounded into her, one hand ensconced in her mass of crimson hair, last moves of his hips erratic.

“ _Charlotte, fuck, fuck!_ ” Bill strained, shooting into her with a shiver before settling. Gulping air, they held one another on top of the desk, sated.

Eventually Bill stood, pulling up his jeans and joining Charlotte on the edge of the desk while she put herself back together. 

Stroking the back of one finger over her forearm, Bill smiled. “Fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Charlotte leaned her head on his shoulder. “Me too.”

“Yeah?” Bill asked, threading her hair behind her ear.

Charlotte scratched under his chin. “Yeah. In fact, last year I’d get so distracted fantasizing about you in class, I was worried it would start affecting my grades.”

Bill giggled. “Oh really?” She nodded. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you’re such a dedicated student then.”

Smiling, Charlotte gave him a kiss. “I guess so.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read! If you enjoyed this, please leave a comment or come say hi on tumblr at fandomtransmandom. I also take requests!


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